Two miles East of town one would find an open field. A broken stone wall divides the field in half, in front of the stone wall, there is a creek. The field is haunted, haunted by the souls of some six hundred Confederate dead and some eight hundred Federal dead. There are a number of rumors connected with the field, some report hearing the roar of musketry echoing across the field early in the morning. Others report seeing the phantom forms of butternut clad Confederate's holding the old stone wall as charging groups of phantom Federals rush toward them with their muskets lowered and their bayonets fixed.

Still others report finding themselves standing in the midst of battle. Surrounded by the smoke of spent black powder, the field echoing the sound of the wounded and dying. Their ears echoing the deafening sound of three thousand or more muskets going off at the same time. The orange and red flash sparks of the powder going off. The beating of the drums, and the yells of the officers as they rally the men to their command.

Now I'm something of a relic hunter and something of a novice Civil War Historian. I mean, I have an old wooden box in my bedroom that is filled with recovered relics. About three dozen musket balls, a few dozen brass buttons and one or two old belt buckles. Most of those I recovered from the various battlefields that lay scattered across the region. I never hunt for relics in the field just North of town. I'll tell you why too, the field is haunted. 

It was summer of two thousand eighteen. I had just met the girl who would later become my girlfriend at the local Discover Benton Festival. She was a cute brunette with sparkling blue eyes. Her name was Madeline Brewer and she was new to Benton. Anyway I mention her because the day I met her was also the day I feel like I stepped back into time. I had checked out the Festival early that morning, Madeline was working the dunking booth. I dunked her a few times and flirted with her a bit. I thought she was pretty cool and darn good looking. Anyway when I learned she was a local girl, I wanted to kind of give her a gift. 

Just any gift. Something that came from the heart you know. I mean I could have just popped down to the newest boutique in town, Simple Girls Gift Shop and Luxury Gifts. But Madeline struck me as a down to earth girl and prices of  Simple Girls, despite the name, would have put a whole in my pocket book the size of China. And plus, I just met the girl no more than an hour or so ago. But I still wanted to give her something unique, something that you just could not go out and buy. And so I decided to hunt her up a relic.

Don't know what I was thinking at the time, but the idea seemed solid enough. And so I collected the tools of my trade, a small hand held metal detector, a small spade and a canteen full of water and headed out to the field. It took me a good hour on my bike to reach the field. I remember the beauty of the field struck me, a sea of waving grass danced in a gentle summer breeze, the crumbling stone wall in the center added its own charm and the soothing sound of water running over gravel from the nearby creek added its own melody. Kind of reminded me of those paintings you see down at the courthouse.

I parked my bike under the shade of an old oak tree. Once my bike was parked, I collected the tools of my grade from the old wire basket and started to walk. My instinct directed me toward the creek, once I reached the creek I paused and started to scan the ground with my metal detector. Soon the little machine started to peep and ever the eager beaver I kneeled down and started to dig.

Then I heard it, the roar of musket fire. It was followed by a loud booming sound that rolled across the field. Smoke started to drift in around me, clouds of pale gray smoke that burned my throat and caused my eyes to water. The sound of muskets being fired grew louder and louder.  From the woods left of me I heard the sound of what appeared to men being formed up. Confused, I threw myself down on the ground as the rattling of muskets grew louder and louder. And the clouds of smoke grew thicker and thicker. Then I saw them.

Through the banks of smoke I saw them, phantoms wearing woolen blue uniforms came charging out. Their muskets were lowered. They moved around me, and splashed through the shallow water of the creek. Some of them dropped dead, others paused and fired their muskets, I saw the bright orange and red flash of powder being discharged with my own eyes.  Then the air became choked with the horrible smell of burning flesh, I saw men puking in front of me.

Then I was hit with the smell of blood. Unsure what to do, I started to move along the creek, the phantoms passed around me, the water, water that had once been flowing clear, soon turned red, red with blood. Sickened I left the water and moved onto the field, the sound of musket fire was growing more intense. I had taken to crawling, because it sounded so real and the phantoms, where becoming more and more solid to me with every passing minute, as I moved across the field, inching my way across the stone wall, I felt myself becoming covered with blood, blood of the dead that littered the field there eyes wide open, there lifeless fingers still clutching their rifles.

I lifted my head a little and saw that behind the stone wall I was crawling told, were phantoms, these were clad in butternut gray uniforms, I could see their kepis flapping up and down as they took aim with there muskets and fire into the advancing ranks of Federals. Then to my horror, I found myself looking down the barrel of a phantom confederate musket. I paused and then closed my eyes, and then when I opened them again. The bedlam that had surrounded me had vanished. The storm of battle had passed me. 

And the sun was starting to set too. And despite the fact that it was in the depth of summer, a bone chilling wind started to blow across the field. And in the wind I heard the groans of the dying, the begging and pleading of the wounded for mercy and reverberating sound of musket fire. We'll, I quickly retraced my steps, collected my gear and ran toward my bike. Once I reached my bike, I started to high tail it out of there. I've tended to avoid that field now.